Lies
by Lascylla
Summary: Orochimaru has Sakura chained up in his compound, for his entertainment.  Humor and character development as well as a plot.  Potential SakuraxOrochimaru.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Someone else does. Happy?

**Lies: Chapter One**

"Will you please let me go?"

"Hmm… No."

"Why not? I'm no use to you, anyway!"

He levels a steady look at me and quirks an eyebrow. "Because I'm bored."

"Well… then go kill something! Isn't that what you do for fun? Kill, maim, torture, destroy!" I'm swiftly descending into hysterics.

"Why Sakura-dear, I'm hurt! Do you really think that's all that I enjoy?" He pouts, looking almost-genuinely hurt. "I also like biting people."

"Ugh! You sick, twisted bastard! Just… go _die_ already!" I'm practically choking on the words as they come out. I can't express my horror, disgust and hatred of him with words alone. Truly, I think the only way I could properly convey my feelings towards the snake-loving asshole would be if I could tie him up and get him well acquainted with the less healerly uses for a chakra scalpel.

He smirks. "You see- that's why I can't let you go! You're very entertaining when you try to speak through a mouthful of hate. Ooh, and you're so… cute! I think that's the word I'm looking for. Yes. So cute when you're imagining how you'd flay me alive, if only you weren't so... weak."

"Fuck you!"

"And _ever_ so eloquent, as well."

I yank at the chains that bind me to the wall, so far beyond angry that I don't think there's even a word for what I'm feeling. He just laughs, though, and gives me a look that's full of amused affection. I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE him!

Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by it all- by being chained up and laughed at and mocked and provoked and being just so damn powerless. All the fight drains out of me as the helplessness of my situation becomes real again and I hang lifelessly from the manacles, letting them hold me up. I'm just so tired. So tired of fighting him; of fighting life.

He sighs, disappointed. Apparently I've stopped being entertaining now.

He leaves without another word, which is unusual – he's normally quite chatty, which is bizarre for someone who's so fucking evil. I don't have the energy to ponder his silence, though. I don't care.

A small flare of rage gives me the strength to hiss a fervent "Screw you," before I resume my silent, empty emotionlessness.

I hear him laugh from somewhere outside the heavy steel door. He heard me. Good for him.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Ghost of Love is being really tricky at the moment and so it spawned this little bit of silliness. Which quickly developed an actual plot and several more chapters. Anyway, let me know what you think peoples, if you read this :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: In chapter one.

**Lies: Chapter Two**

"Dear, _dear_ little Sakura… I have a gift for you."

I barely glance up from my emo slump. "I don't _care_." I manage to inject a sincere amount of mocking venom into my voice. I'm almost proud of how bitchy and sulky I sound.

He laughs. Ugh! How can he just find everything that I say, everything that I do, so damn amusing? "_God_, you're annoying. Is there _anything_ you don't find funny?"

"Hmm… Jokes, usually. They're often so," he hesitates, searching for the right word. "Crude. There are very few clever jokes out there."

I can't believe he actually answers the totally rhetorical questions I throw at him. This isn't the first time he's given an apparently totally serious answer to a totally not serious question.

"So you just find my helplessness amusing, then. How is _that_ intelligent?"

I can't help but glance up at him now, because for once I'm actually curious to hear his answer.

He shrugs elegantly and makes an indeterminate noise that tells me he isn't really sure. I can't quite believe that but, whatever. I shouldn't be making almost-civil with the bastard who's keeping me chained in his compound.

"Now, back to the present I have for you…" He stops before me and I refrain – barely – from recoiling from his closeness.

"You put _any_ part of you _anywhere_ near my mouth and I'm gonna bite it off, got it?"

He snorts and gives me a reproving look. Wow. I think I just managed to offend him. Amazing.

I shrug, almost embarrassed by my unnecessary outburst, but he's ignoring me now- making a series of complex hand signs.

I can't help the pang of envy that hits me as I watch his dextrous, elegant hands form whatever weird signs he's making so rapidly that I can scarcely follow them with my eyes.

"Jesus…" I breathe, staring with shameless awe.

His only reaction is to smirk slightly, but I get the feeling he would be preening insufferably if he weren't concentrating so hard.

Eventually he slows and then stops. I wonder if his fingers and wrists are sore and the procedure for easing muscle pain flashes through my head before I can stop it. It's become second nature now, healing. I can't see a limp without running through my mind the possible causes and cures- and flesh wounds? My fingers tingle with anticipation just at the thought of knitting skin and muscles and veins back together. I am a healer now, through and through. I'm almost addicted to the rush of holding lives in my hands, of bringing people back from the brink of death. It's like some insanely powerful drug and I don't ever want to give it up.

I come back to my current reality with a thud and Orochimaru is standing before me, smirking, eyes glowing with pride and anticipation and amusement. I think those emotions are, in fact, the only ones he is capable of feeling. Apart from, you know, power-lust, blood-lust and, no doubt, every other kind of lust there is. I have formed a strong opinion that he just _wants_. Anything and everything.

"What?" I snap, nearly squirming under his gaze. I don't want him this close to me. Nor do I want his eyes on me.

"You'll see," he says, voice lilting and full of repressed emotion.

Whatever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Two chapters in one night, albeit very short ones XD Lmk your thoughts/if you see any mistake, etc.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**Lies: Chapter Three**

Orochimaru waves his hand casually, releasing the manacles from around my wrists. Of course, I was using those to hold me up so I fall to the floor, landing on my knees with a painful thump. He smirks and I glower at him. Bastard.

Then it hits me that I'm free. Well, kind of. I'm free if I can take down the smugly expectant snake sannin standing in front of me. So in actual fact, not free at all.

"What _is_ this?" I snap while rubbing my wrists gingerly.

He shrugs elegantly and tilts his head a little, sending me a mildly incredulous look. "It would appear that you are free, my pet."

I bristle at his presumption in calling me his 'pet', but ultimately I'm too intrigued by the fact that he's letting me go to call him on it. "I don't believe you. How am I going to be entertaining when I run back to Konoha and spill all your secrets?"

He snickers evilly. Yes, evilly. There's no other word to accurately describe the sound. "Oh, I think you'll be plenty fun. I've been rather lacking a challenge of late- you leaking my whereabouts and the setup of my compound might just make things a little more interesting."

I don't believe for a second that that's why he's letting me go. But I'm not going to question it any further. Gift horses and all that. I nod slowly, holding his gaze while I sidestep cautiously around him. He pivots gracefully to follow my progress with his eyes. He doesn't lose the self-satisfied smirk at any point. I should be concerned about that. But then I'm past him and bolting for the door, suspicious behaviour forgotten in my mad dash to get out of this miserable prison.

I'm going home.

"Naruto_ what_? What's your deal?" I've been back in Konoha for a couple of weeks now and I'm getting kind of sick of being peppered with questions and concerned looks. Naruto's been especially irritating, smothering me with his loud, obnoxious presence.

He recoils a little at the sharp impatience of my tone, hurt flashing momentarily in his rich blue eyes. "Nothing! …I'm just glad you're home, that's all."

I let out a long, quiet sigh and nod, softening my expression a little. It's not fair to take out my frustration on Naruto- he's just being… Naruto. So he watches me constantly, worry lurking underneath his cocky, exuberant exterior. And I can't blame him, I guess. Not after everything that happened with Sasuke.

"Yeah, right… sorry. I'm just tired of everyone watching me all the time, like I'm gonna explode or something." My apology is not what it could be. I'm still annoyed, despite my every attempt at being rational.

Naruto's face clears and he shrugs. "We-ell, you did tell us Orochimaru just," he pauses, gesturing helplessly, "…let you go. You gotta wonder why he'd do something like that, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," I frown, vaguely wondering why I haven't been more worried about that. Still, it doesn't seem particularly important, even though I get the impression that maybe it should.

"You _guess? _Unless you're a spy or a weapon or something it makes _no_ sense that he'd ever let you go!"

I flinch and shrug uneasily. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I'd _know_ if I was any of those things, don't you think, Naruto?"

The blond eyes me oddly and the moment stretches until it becomes thoroughly uncomfortable. Finally he nods slowly, though I can see the scepticism in his open, boyish face. "Maybe."

_Maybe? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? Of course I'd know! Stupid Naruto… But he's not stupid. He never was, even when I used to yell it at him. _A wave of guilt rises in my chest then. I thought I'd gotten over this, reconciled my bitchy, flat out mean treatment of Naruto when we were kids. I know he has, for the most part. But I can't help but feel that I'm regressing a bit; I've become such a _bitch_ lately, snapping at Naruto and Kakashi-sensei. But they're just so… grating and restrictive!

I give the blond a flat look, "I would _know_ if I was being used Naruto."

He shrugs, eyes me suspiciously and repeats, "Maybe."

I huff and turn around, marching back towards the hospital, stiff spine and grouchy face. "Whatever."

* * *

><p>AN: This little bit of silliness is just... silly XD next chapter's getting off to a better start, lmao!


	4. Chapter 4

**Lies: Chapter Four**

The first time I get the urge to experiment on a dying patient, I don't realize until it's almost too late.

The second time it happens, I'm waiting for it.

The third time, I retract the scalpel into my fingertips and disappear into the staff bathroom for an hour, arguing with myself under my breath, in between bouts of dry heaving.

Maybe Naruto was right- maybe he _did_ something to me. I shudder as roiling disgust sends nausea climbing my throat. What's wrong with me?!

'_Nothing's wrong with you my __**dear**__ little Sakura…'_

I start; I know that voice- sure it's _his_ voice, but I'm suddenly aware that it's been whispering in my head for the last month. Oh god.

He snickers, the sound rasping along the inner contours of my skull as I try not to hyperventilate.

'_Oh, that won't do!' _he whispers, stroking my shuddering psyche with gentle tendrils of thought. _'I can't have you falling unconscious- then they might do all sorts of _tests _on you…' _

My mind is filled with gruesome images and I suddenly believe, wholeheartedly, that if I am discovered I will be brutally tortured. _'Good girl, just go back out there and continue your day. Nothing's wrong, all is well.'_

I slowly stand from my hunched seat on closed toilet-lid, unlatch the stall door and walk mechanically to the sink. My fingers press against my face, feeling for something out of place, something wrong. My hands find nothing but smooth skin. I press harder, map the shape of my cheekbones, my nose, my jaw, with probing fingers.

Nothing unusual.

My hands fall away, back to my sides and I observe the girl in the mirror. She's pale and unhealthy-looking, milk-white skin, purple bruises under her dull sea-green eyes. Cheeks hollow, hair lifeless and unstyled. I frown, disconcerted, and cast my mind back over the past month, trying to remember the last time I looked in a mirror. I do every morning, I'm sure of it! When I pull on my uniform and brush my hair.

How the hell have I missed this? This... deterioration into a, what- a scrawny, unkempt, street-rat-looking mess? Surely I knew I looked this way before now? But as hard as I try to recall seeing my face before, I can't quite put my finger on the last time I did. _Every morning Sakura, you idiot! _

Okay, so maybe I've been a little distracted lately, buried in my work, in consuming the knowledge contained in every scroll in Tsunade's medical library. _That_ I remember clearly- the words, the diagrams, the sheer information feeding through my eyes, through my fingertips, into my brain.

Blinking slowly, I acknowledge that I haven't really been paying attention to anything else, that all I can clearly remember is the moments when I'm taken over by this irresistable urge to change, to alter the things that _are_ into the things they _could_ be. The need to press my chakra scalplel against skin and part flesh to reveal the truth underneath.

And subvert it, improve it.

A shudder rocks my thin frame and I grasp the edge of the sink, closing my eyes against the bright lights of the hospital bathroom. What's _wrong_ with me?!

Silence answers my desperate question, no hissing, rasping voice this time. I am almost glad of the quiet- but what if he didn't really do anything to me? What if this is just me, going completely insane? I inhale sharply, tears prickling my eyes. Then anger. Seething, furious rage. I will _not _be weak! My back straightens, chin lifts, and I meet my eyes in the mirror. I am not weak. I might be going crazy (I giggle a little hysterically at this), but I'm _not _weak.

I wash my hands, splash my face with cold water, and dry them with paper towel. Re-fortifying myself, preparing to return to my life. Determined that I will eat, I will sleep, I will work, and I will visit Naruto, despite the pang of fear in my chest at the thought that he might somehow detect _his _presence in my mind.

I remind myself that_ I_ am the only one in my head, pull open the door and step back into my life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Lies: Chapter Five**

The hall is bright with artificial luminescence, brighter than the bathroom had been. And there are people out here, ones that _know _me, that might see how _wrong_ I am right now. Why hasn't anyone commented on my my lack grooming? On my wrongbad state of mind and obviously sub-par health?

Paranoia hits me hard in the chest, stealing my breath away. They know. They must know! They're just biding their time, waiting to see what I will do, waiting for me to slip up and do something unforgiveable. Something they can lock me up and cut me open for.

My fingernails bite hard into my palms as I force myself to move. I need to get out of this place, away from the people who know me, who watch me with eyes that see how wrong I am.

Nurses nod politely as they pass me by, but behind every perfunctory smile I see fear and anticipation as they wait for my mistake.

I brush through the swinging doors, out into the hospital foyer. Potted plants and clinical cleanliness, floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. Patient's families and friends keep the sliding doors busy- a ninja village's hosiptal sees more action than most, and if we didn't burn our dead we'd no doubt have fields full of graves.

My neck prickles with fear, every muscle tense, my brow furrowed. I know this is no way to avoid suspicion. In fact, my actions are incredibly suspicious. But I can't seem to recall my years of training, how to fit in where you don't, how to conceal your emotions, how to lie. I'm shaken to my core, terrified of what I might be and afraid of what everyone else might know. There is no room left for stealth beside the crazy that's currently filling me up.

The automatic doors retract with a low hum and the sun greets my pale face, fresh air pushing its way into my lungs as my chest expands with relief. Home. I need to get home where I can think, where I can figure this out. There is, of course, the nagging feeling that home won't fix anything, because the thing that's wrong is _me_. Can't go anywhere without me, right? _Ha, ha..._

Nevertheless I have to be somewhere, and home seems like the most private place for me to have my little psychotic episdode. Less external stimuli to interfere with my thoughts. Less chance of someone seeing _him_ behind my eyes.

Said eyes squeeze shut, wrinkling with the force of the action. Okay, I need to relax, and I need to do it fast. It'll take ten minutes, tops, to get to my apartment. Then I can let out all the crazy in private.

"Sakura, how are you doing these days?"

Oh god. _Kakashi._

"Fine sensei, thanks for asking," I reply brightly, smiling wide and fake.

The grey-haired jonin squints at me with his one eye, a friendly, genial smile. But something is off here, I can feel it. He seems... concerned? Or is it suspicious?

"_Well, to be fair, you do look fairly disturbing, little Sakura," _the voice sneers silkily.

I start, the smile stuttering on my face, before I fix it back in place. "Well, gotta go, sensei! Have a good day!" I make to sprint past Kakashi, no longer caring if I seem odd to him- I just need to get home so I can have a _serious_ chat with the voice in my head. A hand snatches my bicep firmly, spinning me around.

"Not so fast, Sakura," sensei chuckles softly. "I haven't asked how _you're_ doing?"

"Uh, I'm f-fine. I mean, yeah. A little tired, I've been working a lot, but... I'm okay," I pause, then end softly, "Thanks, Sensei. I really gotta go, though..."

Kakashi's smile dissolves into something gentle and sad, and he slowly releases my arm. "Sure, Sakura. Take care of yourself," he offers a head-tilt and a lazy wave of his hand as he turns away.

The urge to grab him and tell him that there's something really, really, bad going on in me right now, that I might be a danger to the citizens of Konoha - please, please Sensei, fix it! - almost overwhelms me. But I can't do that. _They'd kill you, little one... _I don't know if the voice is him or me, now.

I crouch a little, gathering energy in the lean, strong, muscles of my legs, and then spring onto the rooftops and speed home.

It's the wind whipping in my eyes that sends gentle trails of tears down my cheeks. I'm not crying. I'm _not_ weak.

It's just the wind.

**AN:** For **GoldenPiggy** and anyone else wondering about the choice of genre as 'humor'- it may not be entirely appropriate for this story, and I will likely end up removing it, however for now I will leave it as is and see where the story goes. Thanks for the reviews/comments, guys!


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